If there is one thing my parents (seen here in a photo shortly after their wedding in 1957) instilled in me at a young age is to be weary of friends. My mom and dad didn’t have many friends, but those they did have were really, really great; however, to sort out the gems from the fakes was not an easy task. Both of them had told me stories about how they were hurt by friends in many different ways. Also, just because someone is related to you, it does not mean they care. My mom’s brother and his children are a prime example of this. I even tried over the years to establish a line of communication with them, which worked at times, and provided the opposite effect on others. When my mom’s sister (my GodMother, my middle name is her first name, I loved her dearly) died unexpectedlyRead More →